


Happy Birthday, Dear Friend

by miriam271



Category: She Loves Me - Bock/Harnick/Masteroff
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7533898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miriam271/pseuds/miriam271
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amalia finds out that Georg's birthday is one week away, and that he has spent past birthdays alone. Despite his protests, Amalia plans a birthday for him that he'll never forget, complete with letters, wacky gifts, and yes - vanilla ice cream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday, Dear Friend

The topic came up rather unexpectedly during one of their coffee dates, about three weeks after Georg had revealed to Amalia that he was her Dear Friend and about two weeks after their wedding, which had been an intimate, understated affair with only close friends and family invited. The couple was seated across from each other at their usual table in their usual café – not the Café Imperiale, which had lost its romantic atmosphere in their eyes, but another café a few blocks away from Maraczek’s called the Centrál Café. Amalia had been quietly sipping her coffee – no milk, two sugars, just the way she liked it – when Georg said something that almost made her drop her cup in shock.

“Your birthday is January 18?!” Amalia exclaimed, quickly setting her cup down on the table with trembling fingers. 

“Y-yes,” Georg replied in astonishment. He hadn’t expected this response from his wife. She’d turned pale, and her eyes were wide. Everything in him was telling him to stand up, cross over to her, and envelope her in his arms to comfort her, but he stopped himself. Why should she need comfort? He’d only told her about his birthday!

“That’s only one week away!” Amalia said. Georg watched her, speechless, as her expression slowly changed from amazed to infuriated. She glared at him. “When were you planning on telling me?” she asked, slapping his arm lightly. 

He gently caught her rebellious hand in both of his, which seemed to soothe her. “I didn’t realize the information was so significant,” Georg said softly.

“Of course it’s significant!” Amalia said, and Georg worried for a moment that her temper would flare up again. But then she bit her lip and once more he was overwhelmed by a fierce desire to hug her. God, this woman!

“That only gives me one week to plan the party, to send out invitations, to… to buy all the gifts! We’ll want everyone from the shop there, and my mother, and perhaps Ilona’s fiancée, and Ladislav’s wife, and…” 

Georg held up a hand to stop her. “Amalia, you don’t have to do any of that. I don’t see any reason why this birthday should be different from my usual ones.”

Amalia looked at him, puzzled. “What do you usually do for your birthday?”

Georg cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed, although he told himself he had no reason to be. “Well, I usually get an extra cup of coffee, maybe go for a walk, and buy myself a new book.” He shrugged. “That’s it, really.”

Amalia looked more astonished than ever before. Georg’s cheeks felt hot. “Do you mean to say that you… spend your birthdays alone?” she asked.

Georg gave a small nod. He was still holding her hand, but his eyes were fixed on his shoes. He hoped she was done. He prayed she was done.

But she wasn’t. “No one buys you presents?” 

He nodded again, still not looking at her. He could feel her eyes burning into him.

“And you’re fine with that?” Her voice was softer now, gentler. He looked up.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Yes, I’m fine with that.”

Her big beautiful eyes were sympathetic now. “Oh, Georg,” she said. “No wonder you never mentioned your birthday.”

He shrugged again. “Really, it doesn’t matter.”

Amalia’s eyebrows furrowed. “But… but I wanted this birthday to be special,” she said sadly.

“It will be,” Georg said sincerely. “I have you.”

He watched her eyes soften, her cheeks flush. She stood up, and for a second Georg wondered if she would hit him again. But then she bent down and kissed him, and all his worries dissolved. One thought persisted, even as his arms reached up to wrap around her waist: that this would hopefully be the end of the discussion.

Little did he know.

 

***One week later***

It was the morning of January 18. Georg found the first note immediately when he awoke – it was next to him in bed where his wife should’ve been. Clutching it, he sat up. It was the same pale pink stationary that Amalia had used when she’d written him Dear Friend letters. Intrigued, he began to read:

Dear Friend,  
Do you remember back a week ago when you told me today was your birthday? Did you really think that would be the end of the discussion?

Georg paused. The first two words had brought a delighted smile to his face, but what followed had inspired him to sigh exasperatedly in a way only his wife could make him. He composed himself and read on:

As you can see, I am not here right now, so you will indeed spend the first part of your birthday alone. I’ve left to run an errand and will return soon, but in the meantime, you may look for the hidden gifts I’ve placed around the house. Each one has a letter with it. The first gift is under our bed. Happy Hunting!  
Love,  
Amalia

With the words “Love, Amalia” fresh in his brain, Georg couldn’t help but grin. This birthday was definitely going to be special.

He looked under the bed to find a shoebox, which he opened. Inside, he found a single leather loafer. Puzzled, he picked it up to find another pink note hidden beneath it that read:

If you’re lucky, I’ll give you the other one eventually.

The note brought back memories of his wife jumping on the bed in her pink pajamas, accusing him of stealing her shoe. He smiled to himself and went to search for the other gifts.

The other gifts that Georg discovered and the notes that accompanied them were as follows…

1\. A tube of Mona Lisa Cold Cream with a note reading:

Dear Friend,  
This is admittedly a gift that is of more interest to me than to you, but you may find yourself using it every now and then.  
Love,   
Amalia

2\. A musical cigarette box filled to the brim with candy, with a note reading:

Dear Friend,  
We both have a sweet tooth, and I do believe this box was designed with the two of us in mind.  
Love,  
Amalia

3\. An enormous stack of books with a note reading:

Dear Friend,  
Buying only one book for oneself on one’s birthday simply didn’t seem good enough to me.  
Love,  
Amalia

4\. A nail file with a note reading:

Dear Friend,  
This is to help you keep those fingernails the way I like them.  
Love,  
Amalia

5\. A bottle of wine with a note reading:

Dear Friend,  
Here is the wine you liked so much from that night at the Café Imperiale. I hope there aren’t any flies in it.  
Love,  
Amalia

6\. A box of elegant stationary with a note reading:

Dear Friend,  
If you ever find yourself at a loss for words, perhaps your thoughts will come out easier on paper.  
Love,  
Amalia

7\. A bouquet of roses with a note reading:

Dear Friend,  
I hope these will serve as a reminder that our once lonely hearts aren’t lonely anymore. I am so lucky to be your wife.  
Love,  
Amalia

Just as Georg was finishing reading the last note, he heard the door to the apartment open. He listened as Amalia took off her shoes, hung up her coat, and walked into their living room where he was waiting.

She was a vision in the purple dress she’d worn the first time they’d met. Her dark brown ringlets framed her face, and her eyes gleamed. In her hands she held two cartons of Lindner’s vanilla ice cream. She placed them down on the counter and turned back to face him. “I see you found all the gifts,” she said. 

He nodded. “I’m glad,” she said. She paused, fidgeting. It occurred to him that she was nervous. The confident, witty Amalia from the notes he’d just read seemed vastly different from the touchingly vulnerable Amalia in front of him, and yet he knew from personal experience that those were truly two sides of the same coin. “Before you say anything, I’d like to explain a few things. First, I didn’t invite anyone else to have the ice cream with us. I involved everyone at Maraczek’s in the gift shopping of course – the wine, for example, was Ilona’s idea. I’d told her about you pretending there was a fly in the wine, and she suggested I buy you some, as long as I made you promise to share it with her.” She laughed, but she sounded uncomfortable.

She seemed about to continue when Georg asked, “Did you buy all the gifts yourself?” He’d meant it to sound appreciative, but instead she only looked more uncertain. 

“Well, yes,” she said. “But of course we are married, so what’s yours and mine and what’s mine is yours, so I suppose you could say that we bought these gifts together.” Amalia spoke hurriedly and avoided his gaze. “You told me that day in the café that this birthday would be special enough because you had me, but I just felt so awful that you’d never had a real birthday with real presents. It does, however, mean the world to me that you said that, so if you don’t want the gifts, I completely understand.” She paused for breath and finally looked up at Georg. “So?” she asked. “Do you… do you like it?”

When he didn’t answer immediately she looked ready to launch into another monologue. Before she could, Georg made his way over to her in two strides. He took her in his arms and kissed her, hoping that action alone would erase any doubt from her mind. When they separated, though, something in her eyes still looked questioning. He stood there, tongue-tied and utterly overwhelmed by the generosity of the woman in front of him, when an idea occurred to him. “I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later he returned with a piece of paper in his hand, one from the new stationary set Amalia had given him. When he handed it to her she stared at him quizzically. “Like you said in your note,” he started. “When at a loss for words…” He knew she understood when she tore her eyes away from him to read it. Instead of reading with his wife, Georg read her. She was infinitely more interesting than any note, and besides, he already knew it said this:

Dear Friend,  
It amazes me so that you had to ask if I liked what you did for me. I am deeply, lovingly grateful to you for putting this all together. You didn’t have to. I meant it when I said that you were in yourself enough of a gift, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate all the other gifts you’ve given me. They aren’t typical, showy gifts intended to impress me; they are gifts that tell a story – our story, a story that I hope never ends. You wrote in one of your notes that you were lucky to be my wife, but it is I who am lucky to be your husband. I know that with you, I will never feel lonely again. I love you.  
Yours,  
Georg

When she finished reading, Amalia looked up at him with an enormous smile on her face that took his breath away. “I love you too,” she murmured, before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him again.

When they pulled apart, Georg suggested, “We’d better have that ice cream before it melts.”

Amalia nodded in agreement and handed him one of the cartons with a spoon. Before he could eat it, she kissed his cheek softly. “Happy Birthday, Dear Friend,” his wife whispered. Georg was the happiest he’d ever been.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by two prompts on Tumblr - the first about Amalia showering Georg with gifts to make up for his birthdays spent alone, and the second about Amalia and Georg leaving Dear Friend letters for each other around the house. The Centrál Café is a real, historic café in Budapest that has always been frequented by writers and book lovers, so it seemed like an appropriate date place for these cuties. This is my first SLM fanfic, so please let me know what you think! Writing this was one of the only ways to cope with the withdrawals from the Broadway revival closing! (P.S., if anyone wants to rave about the revival with me, I'm here.)


End file.
